


Casus Belli

by ChuckleVoodoos



Series: Invisible Gorilla Testing [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst ahoy!, Best Friends, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Canon Familial Abuse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, M/M, Oblivious Bruce Banner, POV: Tony Stark, Tony Angst, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckleVoodoos/pseuds/ChuckleVoodoos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony would like to make it very clear for the cosmic record that he does not, in fact, hate Betty Ross.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casus Belli

**Author's Note:**

> This story needs more banter, but unfortunately tackling Tony angst and Bruce's backstory (canon, I swear I wouldn't be this mean without reason) in one one-shot makes it tricky to make it lighthearted. So I might redo this completely and make it cheesy and goofy, but let me know what you think of the darker version.

Tony would like to make it very clear for the cosmic record that he does not, in fact, hate Betty Ross.

 

Really, he doesn’t. Indeed, for a brief portion of their acquaintance, he likes Betty quite a bit. He hears through the grapevine that she is an impressively intelligent girl apparently famous for being as eminently hot as she is eminently unavailable. Tony likes the looks of those odds. And those legs. In fact, he’s actually thinking that after a fling, it might be nice to keep in touch. She seems like the sort of person he could get along with.

 

And then he meets her boyfriend.

  

* * *

The thing is, Bruce isn’t just hot and wicked smart. He’s also got a sense of humor as dry as the Sahara and yet he’s also so undeniably _sweet_ that he could give Tony cavities.

 

Best and most surprisingly of all, Bruce is easy. Not in any conventional sense of the word, of course—his brain is like a maze and he is utterly loyal to Betty in a way that becomes more annoying than admirable as time wears on. No, it’s more that the things that make Bruce smile and laugh are the things that Tony does anyway, no assembly required.

 

In fact, his conventional flirting strategies go right over the genius’s head. He only grasps the cheesiest and most blatant pickup lines, and even then he’s so humble that he doesn’t think anyone would want to flirt with him in the first place, so he just laughs and continues the conversation. This is simultaneously incredibly frustrating--because Tony is 100% serious here, in intent if not in syntax--and incredibly entertaining--because he can literally tell Bruce in the moment exactly what he would like to do on the library table instead of study and have no negative repercussions.  It boggles the mind.

 

So he can’t flirt effectively, and the only time he tried to manipulate Bruce the boy gave him such a kicked-puppy look that Tony never tried again. Which leaves just Tony. No one’s ever really wanted to talk to Just Tony before.

 

He sort of likes it. He sort of likes Bruce.

 

His fifteenth birthday is when things start to go south. He gets cards and presents from people he’s never even met before, ranging from iPods to Rolexes to love notes. He puts them with the rest of his iPods and Rolexes and love notes and makes a list of names that will require generic thank-you notes. Betty, who at this point doesn’t hate his guts, gets him a gift card, which is frankly a little insulting considering they’ve been spending lunch together for the past six months. His father gives him the same thing he always gives him: an engraved pen and a speech about all of his failings of the past year.

 

Bruce makes him a cake frosted to look like the periodic table and a bootleg copy of the Star Wars Christmas Special. They eat the whole thing in one sitting as they watch the movie, laughing and crying at alternate times. Of course, after that they need to cleanse their brains by watching the Star Wars trilogy (If you need to ask which trilogy, you’re not a true fan). And then they need to compare Star Wars to Star Trek—Original Series _and_ Next Gen, of course, to be fair. At some point around 6AM they fall asleep on the couch, and when they wake up Bruce makes him a birthday omelet even though it’s not his birthday anymore.

 

It is around this time, watching Bruce crack eggs into a bowl with the intense concentration of someone performing brain surgery before he trips and sends the whole thing flying, that Tony realizes that he doesn’t just _like_ Bruce anymore.

 

It is shortly after this realization, when he is caught staring at Bruce when he’s supposed to be staring at whatever Bruce is pointing at, that Betty makes the same discovery. It’s rather anticlimactic, to be honest. Bruce is sitting between them, chatting about his latest theory of dark matter, normal lunchroom chatter. Tony looks up briefly from his Bruce-watching, and he sees that Betty is also unfortunately not looking where Bruce is pointing, In fact, she is staring at Tony, and the dawning look of horror on her face implies she’s not ogling him.

 

He should really back off then. He might be competitive, but he’s not going to break up a relationship that both parties are both so clearly invested in. And for a while, he does. He stops the deliberate flirting (he claims no responsibility for the incidental variety), and although Bruce asks him a few times why he’s acting so weird, things seem to settle down. Betty doesn’t look at him like he’s some sort of terrorist, and he can still geek out with Bruce in the mornings and then make out with other people in the evenings. Great. Perfect.

 

And then he gets a phone call. 

 

It’s the middle of the night, and for once he’s actually sleeping. The ringtone wakes him and he fumbles for his cell.

 

“Mmmph?” No answer. He is considering telling this person just where they can shove their midnight phone call when he thinks he hears a little hiccup. “Hello?”

 

“T-Tony? Do you think you could come get me?”

 

He’s already out the door, and he doesn’t hang up until he’s pulling up at the pay phone that Bruce is calling from, babbling the whole way about things that make no sense to make sure that Bruce is still on the other line when he gets there.

 

The first thing he sees is the blood. He’s not squeamish by any stretch of the imagination, and objectively he knows that it’s not that much, but he still feels ill when he sees the gash running across Bruce’s temple. There’s a little trickle of his at his split lip too, and one of his cheekbones is roughly twice the size of the other. The second thing he sees is that Bruce is crying, and looking like he’s going to bolt any second.

 

Tony doesn’t say a word. He just reaches forward and pulls Bruce in. He’s shaking like a leaf, and Tony doesn’t let go until the tremors subside. Then he wraps Bruce into his coat and bundles him into the car. Bruce is silent for a few miles, and then it’s like his mouth catches up with his mind and he can’t stop talking. He says that he doesn’t want to go to the hospital, he just wants to go to sleep, and please don’t tell Betty, she’ll just get upset again and there’s nothing she can do anyway, and he’ll be fine once he gets some Tylenol and Band-Aids, and please, please don’t tell anybody, please, Tony, _please_?

 

He smiles soothingly and nods, and once he’s sure that Bruce’s wounds are shallow enough not to require stitches, he patches him up at home, gives him a sleeping pill, and tucks him into his own bed.

 

Then he goes downstairs and calls his family lawyer.

 

The whole time he’s recounting the situation, all that he can think is _don’t tell Betty, she’ll just get upset again. **Again.**  _Which means she knows, and this has happened before. And she didn’t. Do. Anything.

 

Tony might not hate Betty, but there are few people in that moment that he dislikes more. 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Bruce doesn’t talk to him for a month, after his father gets taken away in handcuffs. Betty doesn’t talk to him either, except for the time right after when she grabs his hand and whispers, urgent and strained, “Thank you”. Now she just shoots him glances that are filled with both gratitude and pity. Tony isn’t sure which one rankles more.

 

It’s a bad month. He loses a lot of weight and starts missing school again. He barely notices that he’s banned from the lab, spending most of his time watching terrible reality TV and sleeping.

 

Finally Bruce shows up. His lip has healed nicely and his skin is flawless, except for a little scar near his hairline that Tony can’t seem to stop staring at. He can’t even register that _Bruce_ is standing in his room. All he can think is that he should have pushed for stitches.

 

“There’s a rumor going around that you died.” Tony laughs hollowly and falls back onto his bed. “I see they’re not far from the truth.”

 

“Come to finish the job?” He asks. Bruce comes closer. The bed dips next to him, and there’s a tentative brush of his hand.

 

“I came to thank you, actually.”

 

He blinks. Bruce offers a weak hearted smile and holds his gaze.

 

“You probably saved my life. I should have thanked you sooner, but I was… angry. I was angry, and scared, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. And I know that you have every right to be angry right back, but I… I miss you. A lot.  So—“

 

Tony tackles him. For a moment Bruce stiffens, but then he hugs back just as fiercely.

 

“I missed you too.”

 

It is only much later, after they have talked everything out and are lying side by side, staring at the ceiling, that a half-asleep Bruce turns to him and smiles, warm and pliant. The scar shines white against the low light.

 

“Love you, you know.” Tony inhales sharply, and he tells his heart to stop being cliché and skipping beats, but it ignores him like it always does. “You’re my best friend.”

 

 _Friend._ Tony closes his eyes and tries not to scream.

 

 _You idiot, don’t you get that I’m in love with…_ “…You too.”

 

* * *

 

After he and Bruce start talking again is when things get tense. He and Betty are stuck in something of a cold war; she blames him for trying to steal Bruce and he blames her for not protecting him. Neither one says anything. Bruce tells him once that she _had_ tried; she’d told her father, and a teacher, but they couldn’t make the charges stick. Too little evidence, too many other cases, blah blah blah.

 

Tony just thinks that she should have tried harder.

 

So yeah, maybe he’s just that little extra bit more dickish around Betty, but she’s just as bad. His father always says that business is supply and demand, filling needs. Betty knows that he needs Bruce more than she does, and she probably knows that he loves him more too. He sees it in her eyes, sometimes. And yet she still pretends like they’re Ken and Barbie, the perfect plastic couple.

 

He _hates_ it.

 

“Was this really necessary, Tony?” Bruce rebukes, but he’s smiling. Tony grins back.

 

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re implying, Bruce. I am as innocent in this as the fresh fallen snow.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

 

“You _do_ cause a lot of accidents wherever you go…” Tony snorts and bumps their shoulder together, letting them brush just a shade longer than necessary. Bruce never minds. “But this will make getting to the campus easier, if you’re still sure you don’t mind driving me. Betty said she can still do it, but—“

 

Of course Betty can.

 

“But this will be so much more fun!” He says as lightly as he can, because the fact that he and Betty hate each other seems to broadcast on the same indecipherable frequency as flirting for Bruce. He and Betty have a silent pact to keep it that way, because one of them is already going to get hurt here and it sure as hell isn’t going to be Bruce if either one of them can help it.

 

Bruce just shakes his head and smiles, eyes all sparkly and affectionate in that way that makes all the blood in Tony’s considerable brain rush straight south.

 

“Or, you know, we could just skip the boring classes and go chill at my house, make some sweet science. I’ll let you play with my test tube.” He is A-Okay with this scenario, so of course Bruce just laughs and cocks his head to the side.

 

“Can you make anything into an innuendo?”

 

“You do make it _hard_ sometimes.” _You have no **idea** how hard you make it sometimes._

 

“Only sometimes?” Bruce grins. “They have a pill for that.”

 

“Not bad, Banner! I knew I was _rubbing off_ on you.”

 

Bruce laughs and raises his hands beseechingly.

 

“Okay, okay, I surrender! So, how’s the armor coming? Did you fix the icing problem yet? Because I have a few ideas…”

 

Who says that Bruce Banner doesn’t know how to flirt? Tony surrendered years ago.

 

* * *

 

Later that night Tony groans and turns over in bed. Remembering all the reasons that he loves his best friend isn’t the best thing to do on said best friend’s anniversary with _somebody else._

He looks at the clock. 5:59. Bruce said that if he called before 6, there would be a brownie ban for the next year. Tony’s love of Bruce’s cooking is only slightly less consuming than his love of Bruce. But counting the dialing time and how long Bruce will take to pick up…

 

“What, Tony?” Seriously? If there is a God, He must hate Tony. Bruce must be out of earshot, because the ugly tone Betty is using is one that her boyfriend has never heard her use, Tony is sure.

 

“Either your voice finally cracked in the wrong direction, or else you aren’t Bruce.” When Betty stonily says nothing to this, Tony sighs and continues, “Hi, Betty. How’s the dinner?” He almost asks if Bruce liked the falafel, but he has _some_ tact. Somewhere.

 

“Oh, so you _do_ remember that Bruce and I are celebrating our _anniversary.”_

_“_ Hard to forget.” He says, a bit more darkly than he intends to. Bruce has been spazzing out about making tonight perfect nonstop for the past month, and each day Tony has been a little bit closer to either killing him or kissing him just to make him shut up. Preferably the latter option. “Ten years, right?”

 

“Thirteen.” Betty snaps, voice dangerous. Tony’s grin widens. He really does try not to be petty, but she just makes it so easy.

 

“Huh, Bruce said ten. Ah well, you know how he is with numbers.”  They both do. This time discrepancy is one of the interesting little factoids that Tony just loves to slip into the conversation, along with the fun fact that apparently when Betty ‘proposed’ to Bruce he actually _stuck his head into a sandbox_ to avoid answering. Bruce (and Tony) thinks this story is _hilarious._ Betty, not so much.

 

“Why are you calling, Tony?” It’s like she’s _asking_ for him to cause trouble. Tony hates to refuse an invitation.

 

“I just wanted to make sure Bruce is bringing brownies when he comes over later.” He says cheerfully, as though he has no idea that monopolizing someone’s boyfriend on his anniversary might be frowned upon. Hey, Bruce is the one who agreed.

 

He can hear teeth grinding on the other end.

 

“We might be going back to my place after.” Low blow, and she knows it. He’s grateful she can’t see the fleeting expression of agony that crosses his face before he composes himself. If that’s the way they’re going to play it…

 

“Uh-huh. After you’ve hidden all your father’s firearms, I hope.” General Ross’s weird fanatical hatred for Bruce is something that he knows Betty worries about. Stark Senior on the other hand loves Bruce, primarily because he’s quiet and clever and keeps Tony out of trouble. Betty worries about this point as well. “He said he’d help me finish up the exoskeleton tonight. Which, unless Bruce has finally perfected that time machine idea we were kicking around, might interfere with those plans over at ‘your place’.”

 

Yes, he’s a dick. Everybody’s got their talents.

 

He’s not the least bit guilty either. He’s not doing anything wrong here. Bruce is allowed to scope out the market, and if Tony’s doing some invested advertising, that’s hardly a crime. Besides, they both know how this is going to end, really.

 

Four years, Tony Stark has been planning to steal the heart of Robert Bruce Banner. Four _years._

 

“Tony. Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?” He doesn’t need to ask, not really. He just wants her to say it. Admit this thing that they’ve been dancing around for the past four years, ever since that day Bruce looked at him and gave him that perfect goddamn smile.

 

“Stop trying to steal my boyfriend.” There’s something about the way that she says that strikes him. ‘Trying to’. He remembers a stray thought that he had a long time ago: that with Bruce, things are easy. He doesn’t have to be anything he’s not. When he’s with Bruce, he doesn’t need to be Anthony Stark, heir to Stark Industries, or the legendary bad boy Tony Stark that got kicked out of his old school. With Bruce he’s just Tony, and for once he feels like that’s enough. 

 

Tony doesn’t hate Betty Ross. He’s jealous of her, no question, and he’s not sure that he’ll ever forgive her for letting Bruce get hurt, but he doesn’t hate her. She is smart, and kind, and obviously she has great taste in guys. In fact, he thinks in another lifetime they would have been friends.

 

Unfortunately, in this lifetime he meets her boyfriend.

 

 “I don’t have to try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: BETTY DID TRY TO HELP BRUCE. Tony isn't really being fair here, but he's biased. He went in with a super ritzy lawyer and lots of social oomph to back him up, while normally nailing abusers can be frustrating and hard as hell. Betty did her best, so no hating.


End file.
